


Because He Likes To Look At It

by clawstoagunfight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Plug, Barebacking, Fingering, I have no idea what else to put, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Smut, ass worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:32:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clawstoagunfight/pseuds/clawstoagunfight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek slams Stiles face-first against his bedroom door as soon as it swings open. He ignores Stiles’ grunt of pain, too busy moving his hands under the layers of cotton. His hands press against the skin of Stiles’ back, feeling for the warmth, for the blood and pulse and flesh of Stiles. “All day, I could smell you.” He seethes, teeth clenched, body taut, tension resting in his shoulders, in his arms as they wrap around Stiles and pull him roughly to his chest. Stiles lets out a surprised huff of air, moving his hands to settle on the doorframe for balance and Derek moves his hands around to his front, to run his fingertips over Stiles’ nipples, to give them a rough tweak that makes Stiles gasp. “Do you know what it did to me? Being able to smell you, but not touch you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because He Likes To Look At It

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd, so all of the mistakes are mine.
> 
> Enjoy!

Derek slams Stiles face-first against his bedroom door as soon as it swings open. He ignores Stiles’ grunt of pain, too busy moving his hands under the layers of cotton. His hands press against the skin of Stiles’ back, feeling for the warmth, for the blood and pulse and flesh of Stiles. “All day, I could smell you.” He seethes, teeth clenched, body taut, tension resting in his shoulders, in his arms as they wrap around Stiles and pull him roughly to his chest. Stiles lets out a surprised huff of air, moving his hands to settle on the doorframe for balance and Derek moves his hands around to his front, to run his fingertips over Stiles’ nipples, to give them a rough tweak that makes Stiles gasp. “Do you know what it did to me? Being able to smell you, but not touch you?” He moves his hands down; down until his thumbs hook in the waistband of Stiles’ pants and Derek ghosts them over his goose-bumped flesh. He settles his head in the crook of Stiles’ shoulder, leaning over until his mouth is level with Stiles’ ear and he breathes out, the warm air passing between his lips to tease at the shell of Stiles’ ear, before his tongue flicks out to follow it. Derek can feel Stiles shudder, just barely, and push his ass back against Derek’s hardening erection. “Your arousal,” he mutters, voice jagged with something he can’t say, “Even across town, I could smell you, how much you want me,” Derek moves his hands to Stiles’ sides, shifts his hips, rubbing himself against the clef of Stiles’ ass. “I could smell how much you want me, how much you want me to fuck you. I can smell how much you want me to make you cum.” He whispers the words like they are a dirty secret and Stiles whimpers, his white knuckled grip on the doorframe slipping a little. Derek takes Stiles’ earlobe into his mouth, sucking on it, nibbling on it until he bites down, maybe a little too hard, but Stiles just leans backwards into Derek’s chest, nudging his ass more securely into Derek’s erection. “Do you want me to make you cum, Stiles?” His voice is low, quiet, dripping with anticipation.

Stiles drops his head back onto Derek’s shoulder. His face is flushed, eyes dark and dilated; he is biting his lip and nodding, just enough that Derek can feel his head moving against his shoulder through his shirt. Derek is sliding his hands under Stiles’ shirt again, feeling at his skin until he finds Stiles’ nipples once more. He pinches them again, harder this time, using more of his real strength, until he knows it is almost too much for Stiles. He writhes and struggles just a little in Derek’s arms, but Derek doesn’t let go until Stiles says his name on a gasp. “I asked, do you want me to make you cum, Stiles?”

Derek watches as Stiles swallows, as his throat works and his lips part and his tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip, “Yes! Yes, I want you to—please make me cum, Derek.”

It’s thicker now, the scent. He is almost painfully hard, the denim too constricting and uncomfortable, caging in his throbbing cock. Derek twists Stiles in a quick movement, walking them back until Stiles’ back is pressed against his bedroom door. His hands are on the hem of Stiles’ shirts, pulling them off in one tug before Stiles can so much as open his mouth to protest. Derek takes a moment, a long moment, to appreciate the long stretch of lean torso and pale skin, to appreciate the smooth, subtle flow and outline of hard muscles, before his mouth is latching on to one of Stiles’ nipples, teeth mirroring what his fingers had been doing moments ago. He sucks and nibbles and bites at one nipple before moving to the other, relishing in all of the small noises Stiles is making, in the way his body is moving against Derek’s. Stiles’ hands are in Derek’s hair, fisting tightly at the dark locks, pulling at his scalp. Derek moans against Stiles’ chest, kissing his way down the shivering skin until he reaches a denim barrier.

Derek drops to his knees, pushing Stiles’ thighs until his back is more securely pressed against the door. He leans forward, hands still resting on Stiles’ thighs, and licks at the path of dark hair leading from Stiles’ bellybutton to where it disappears into clothing. Derek follows it down, tongue snaking beneath the layers of clothes, tasting the sweat of his skin. Derek licks back up, before he settles his mouth on the fly of Stiles’ pants, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses at the hard length that he can feel, smell, almost taste. Stiles cock twitches, through the layers of clothing, when Derek sucks at the head of it, tongue working against the wet denim, pressing hard at what he knows is the slit of his head and the hands in his hair tug hard enough to make Derek a little breathless. Stiles guides him up from his position on the floor until their bodies are aligned, hips and chest and throbbing cocks pressing tightly together. Stiles uses his hold on Derek’s hair to pull their mouths together, to attack his lips, part them and let himself in to meet the warm, wicked tongue, to slide together in a way that is mirrored lower.

Derek’s hands slide from their spot on Stiles’ waist into Stiles’ pants, under denim and cotton, until they settle on the warm flesh of Stiles’ hips. They move down, around, until they are gripping the pliant flesh of Stiles’ ass, kneading the skin, feeling them warm from the fresh flow of blood. He gives the cheeks a few hard squeezes and Stiles groans against his lips. Derek massages them for a little while, spreading them apart, just a little, so his index finger can travel down the part, so he can feel where Stiles is open and warm and—

“Fuck!” Derek growls, his vision going red for a second. He is painfully aroused, leaking in his jeans where Stiles’ hardness is rubbing against his. Derek removes his hands, shoving Stiles hard against the door, stepping back just enough to reach for Stiles’ fly and undo it. He strips off all of his remaining clothes until they puddle around Stiles’ ankles. Derek doesn’t take the time to look at Stiles’ face; he just wraps his hands around his waist and lifts him out of his discarded clothing, ignoring his cries of protest. He carries him fireman style to Stiles’ bed, before he deposits him on the edge of it, face down. Derek pulls Stiles toward the edge until his hips are barely on the bed and his legs are vertical and spread; Derek kneels down between them, the carpet soft under his knees.

Derek looks, just looks at it; the plug. He can see the rounded flat of the base wedged between Stiles’ ass cheeks, inside of him, in the place that Derek desperately wants to settle himself in, lose himself in. He wants to feel the warm, tight heat surround his pulsing, aching cock, wants to push inside of Stiles, over and over until Stiles screams his name and begs to cum, until the muscles of his ass clench around Derek’s erection, until he cums, settled deep inside of him.

Instead, Derek just looks at it, reaches his hands up to glide along the backs of Stiles’ thighs, to move up, to splay across his ass, cup his cheeks and pull them apart so he can look at it better. He leans forward, licks his lips, “You—” his voice is hoarse, rough, “you had that in all day?” he asks, his eyes a little bleary, a shot of arousal shooting from low in his stomach to settle in his cock.

Stiles is still settled face down on the bed, but he lifts himself to his elbows, looks back at Derek with eyes more pupil than color. He’s nodding. “Yes.” He shifts his hips a little, rocking down to thrust against the bedspread. “I wanted to be ready for you. Wanted you so bad I couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the thought of waiting for you. Just wanted you to pull the plug out of my ass and fuck me.” Stiles closes his eyes and moans, the sounds igniting another spark of excitement in Derek’s body. “Been thinking about it all day. Every time I felt it, wished it was you.” He opens his eyes and reaches a hand back to brush against Derek’s face. “I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t move, want you to make me scream your name when I cum. Want you inside of me.”

Derek swallows hard, fingers tightening on Stiles’ ass. He looks back at the plug, at the way the dark shine of it contrasts so nicely with the paleness of Stiles’ skin. He doesn’t move for a moment, just enjoys looking at it, until his hand moves, until his thumb presses against it, presses it just a little further inside of Stiles and he gasps, throws his head back and shudders in front of Derek and it just might be the hottest thing Derek has ever seen. He massages Stiles’ ass cheek with one hand while the other grips the base of the plug, pushes it in slightly before he wiggles it out, just a bit. Stiles moans and Derek pulls it out a little more, exposing more of the black plastic. He watches, almost mesmerized as Stiles’ hole opens, stretches around the plug, all soft pink skin, still wet from the lube Stiles used earlier. Derek pulls until he hears him hiss, before plunging the plug back into the wet depths of his ass. He does it again and again, pulling until he feels the resistance of Stiles’ skin clenching around the toy. Derek works it in and out of him until Stiles is squirming and his hips are moving and his legs are visibly shaking a little. The plug is thicker than Derek thought, a wider girth than he anticipated, but that just makes it hotter, just makes watching it slowly pull out from inside of Stiles that much more intense. He is painfully hard, still fully clothed, but he can’t bring himself to undress, can’t even bring himself to look away from the toy moving in and out of Stiles’ body. He pulls one more time, wiggling the toy until he hears the hiss, but he keeps pulling and the toy drags out with an obscene sound that has Derek and Stiles both moaning loudly into the stagnant room.

Derek leans down to trail his tongue along the clef of Stiles’ ass, licking a path down, ghosting over Stiles’ glistening, pink, slightly open hole, until he gets to his balls, taking one of them into his mouth, rolling it over his tongue at the same time that he pushes the plug back in. Stiles takes a sharp breath, hips canting down against the mattress, circling back up to move against the plug in his ass. Derek reaches under Stiles to grab at the base of his dick and pulls it out carefully from where it is wedged between his body and the mattress, until it is dangling between his spread legs and in front of Derek’s waiting, greedy mouth. He pulls the plug in and out a few more times, before he leaves it buried deep inside of Stiles. He moves his hands down the backs of Stiles’ thighs, tongue licking a strip down the back of his erection until he takes the head of Stiles’ cock into his mouth and sucks hard, tongue swirling against the slit, sucking at the precum that is settled there, tasting the evidence of how much Stiles likes what he’s been doing to him, how much Stiles wants him. He leans down further, changing the angle of his head so he can take more of Stiles’ into his mouth. One of his hands finds Stiles’ balls and cups them, rolling them gently while his mouth works at the rigid, velvety hard flesh of Stiles’ erection. His other hand moves to unzip his own pants and pull his cock until it springs free of the layers of clothes. He wraps his hand around himself and tightens the grip, pulling a few hard strokes. He moans loudly around the cock in his mouth and Stiles lets out an answering moan.

“Derek,” it comes out of Stiles’ mouth hoarse, a little broken, and utterly hot.

Derek takes his mouth off of Stiles, moves his hand back up to grab the plug, pushing and pulling until Stiles whimpers and his hands fist the comforter, knuckles waning under the pressure of his grip. It’s only then that Derek removes the plug completely, setting it on the nightstand, giving Stiles’ dick a couple long strokes before he removes his hands altogether.

Stiles groans and looks back at Derek. His face is flushed, with spots of color working their way from his cheeks down to the top of his chest. His eyes are unfocused and his lips are parted. “Don’t stop. Derek, don’t stop, please—”

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, leveling his eyes at Stiles while he moves the hand around his own erection, squeezing the base before he drags it up, drags his thumb over the head of his cock. He shudders, eyes closing and Stiles makes a sound, a needy sound of want and eagerness and makes Derek’s cock twitch in his hand. “Tell me what you want me to do to you. Tell me how you want it. C’mon, Stiles.” He pulls at his dick again, throws his head back and can hear Stiles swallow hard.

When he speaks, his voice is trembling, “I—I want your f-fingers. I want your mouth.”

Derek looks at him, but Stiles is staring at the bedspread. “Where do you want it?” he moves his hand until it just barely brushes along the length of Stiles’ erection. “Do you want it here?” he asks quietly.

“No,” Stiles answers just as quiet.

Derek quirks an eyebrow at him even though he can’t see it, “Where do you want it?” he repeats, slowly, enunciating each word.

Stiles looks back at Derek and he is biting his lip. “I want your fingers in my ass. I want to feel them stretch me wide and then I want your tongue inside of me. I want you to make me cum and then I want you to fuck me and make me cum again.” He is panting a little by the end of it and goes back to biting his lip again, looking away from Derek while his face floods red from embarrassment.

Derek’s cock twitches again, but he just smirks, moving before Stiles can see, and presses two fingers into Stiles’ puckered opening. He doesn’t worry about hurting him, because he is still stretched from having the plug in all day. Derek scissors his fingers inside of him, dragging them out against the ring of muscles. Stiles is still so wet; and warm, he is so warm, clenching around Derek’s fingers until Derek lets out a whimper. He adds another finger, massaging Stiles’ inner walls, until the pad of his middle finger caresses against the rough spot deep inside of him. Stiles jerks, arches his back, lifts himself off of the bed a little before he shudders.  Derek keeps fingering him, teasing him with deep, slow strokes and every once in awhile he presses against Stiles’ prostate, stimulating it with his fingers.

He stops when he can see Stiles’ cock steadily dripping and pulls his fingers out. He presses the pad of two fingers hard against the slit of his head and Stiles whimpers. “Derek, please. Please, I want to cum so bad.” He is looking back at him again, but Derek just shakes his head and Stiles drops his forehead to the bed.

Derek moves closer to Stiles ass, kneads the cheeks with his hands before he spreads them with his fingers and licks at his balls, up, to swipe at the soft bit of skin between his balls and his opening, to gently press his teeth there, until Stiles goes rigid and whimpers. Derek laughs against his sensitive skin, moving until he gets to the place where he knows Stiles wants him, until he licks around the rim of Stiles’ opening and flexes his tongue, working it into him in one smooth motion that makes him moan shamelessly. Derek uses his tongue, moves his fingers until they rest against Stiles’ hole, pulling him open so that Derek can lick deeper inside of him. He can taste the lube and the heat and the flavor of new plastic that lingers from the plug, but he can also taste the salt of Stiles skin, the remnants of soap and it makes him moan. He moves his tongue, curling it inside of Stiles to lick at the reddening, puckered hole again. He pulls his fingers a little bit more, opening him up more for Derek’s mouth. Derek goes deeper, his nose pressing into the crease of his parted cheeks and Derek moves a hand to squeeze one ass cheek hard, before he slaps at the supple, pale skin. He watches it turn pink, watches it bloom with color before he circles his tongue at Stiles’ entrance, his hand soothing the skin of his ass with the warmth of his hand, massaging away the sting, before he slaps it again, thrusting his tongue inside of him at the same time.

Stiles trembles a little under his hands, his mouth, under the onslaught of juxtaposing sensations and it leaves him shaking beneath Derek and calling out his name, his voice low and lust-filled. He is writhing on the bed, body arching, head thrown back. Derek takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him—the endless expanse of lean limbs and smooth skin that is Stiles—before he removes his tongue and replaces it with his fingers. His free hand travels down to close around Stiles’ cock, thumbing the trickle of precum at the head of his blushing head. Stiles is shades of blooming pinks and reds, the scent of his arousal so strong Derek is practically choking on it. He thrust his fingers inside of him, hitting that spot, in time with the firm strokes of his hand on Stiles’ cock until Stiles tenses, until the muscles in his body tighten and his heart stutters in his chest and his breath is caught in a gasp. He cums; Derek’s name spitting from his lips, echoing loudly in the still room.

Derek works him through his orgasm, works him until Stiles makes a sound and turns around to look at him, panting heavily in his direction, body still flushed, eyes still slightly unfocused from pleasure. He is half hard again when he looks to Derek’s erection; all red and swollen and glistening on the head. “Derek,” he says his name like it’s a secret, reaches out for him, but Derek just stands up, pulls the rest of his clothes off one-handed, and tosses them behind him. He takes the hand covered in Stiles’ cum and jerks himself with it, smearing it all over his cock. Stiles’ eyes dilate at the action and he lets out a moan, his half-hard dick coming back to life surprisingly fast.

“On your knees,” Derek barely manages to grunt it out, but Stiles hears him anyway, lifting himself onto his hands and knees, ass still splayed in front of Derek, level with his hips and the jut of his erection. He takes a step nearer, closes the distance between their bodies and positions the cum-covered head of his cock at Stiles’ still swollen and red entrance.

Derek groans at how easy it is for him to push in, to fill Stiles with the hard length of his pulsing flesh in one slow, slick glide that leaves them both ragged, moaning and panting for more. He settles his hands at Stiles’ hips, fingers digging in, using it as leverage to pull Stiles’ body back against his as he moves his hips, thrusting deeply into the slick heat that is Stiles. He pulls almost all the way out, before moving back in again. Stiles arms give out and he drops his forehead against the comforter; the only thing that keeps him from falling over is entirely is the almost iron grip of Derek’s fingers, which Derek knows will probably leave some sort of bruise, but he doesn’t care. He keeps his thrusts hard, steady, deep; meeting every greedy movement of hips with a matching rhythm.

Derek pulls out completely before pushing back in, just a little, angling himself so the head of his cock drags deliciously against the over sensitized gland inside of Stiles. Stiles cries out, body tightening around him, before Derek moves all the way back inside. He pulls out again though, and repeats the movement. “Fuck!” Stiles screams the third time he repeats the process.

Derek moans, “Mmm, you like that, Stiles?” He snakes a hand from his hip, down to tug at Stiles’ cock. “Hmm, do you like when I use the head of my cock to get you off?” he gives Stiles’ neglected cock another tight pull before he moves back, pulling out yet again to find the perfect angle. “What do you want, Stiles. Head?” he asks as he slides against his prostate, “or shaft?” he thrust forward until he is balls deep inside of Stiles, as deep as he can get at this angle.

Stiles makes a sound like he is being strangled and doesn’t answer, just pants out Derek’s name. Derek leans over and wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist, pulling him vertical until his back is pressed securely to Derek’s chest and his cock is buried deeper inside of him. He keeps one arm wrapped around him while the other finds Stiles’ cock and gives it a few slow, agonizingly light strokes. “I asked you a question, Stiles.” His voice is low, rough; maybe a little dangerous. Stiles still doesn’t answer, but his head once again falls back to rest on Derek’s shoulder. His arm moves up to wrap around the back of Derek’s neck and he can see the fine tremors in it. Stiles caresses the skin of the back of his neck before he threads his fingers into his hair. His eyes are on Derek’s as he pulls his head down for a kiss, his name ghosting over Stiles’ lips before their lips touch, softly, barely, and Stiles is looking at him again, all pale skin and dark hair and eyes and Derek loses himself.

He pulls out and Stiles stumbles a little, trying to find his balance before Derek spins him around and grabs him, lifting him up, wrapping his thighs around Derek’s waist and walking them back over to the bedroom door and he leans Stiles against it. Stiles places his hands on Derek’s shoulders and settles himself back down, fully seated on Derek’s cock. He is thrusting into the wet heat when their mouths meet again, in a violent clash of lips and teeth and tongue that leaves them both gasping, lungs trying desperately to drag in air as their bodies move together, all hard muscles and sweat-slick skin. Stiles erection is trapped between their bodies and his head slides a path up Derek’s abdomen every time he thrusts into Stiles.

Derek knows he last won’t much longer, can feel the subtle tightening in his balls, can feel that Stiles body is starting to shake even more and he knows he is close as well. Derek bites down on Stiles’ bottom lip and kisses the edge of his mouth, moving down to nibble at his jaw, to kiss at the crook of his neck, to lick at the pulse of his throat, until he gets to the area where neck meets shoulder. He thrusts up once, twice, deep, hard strokes that make spots start in his eyes. He hears Stiles moan out his name, feels the muscles of his ass clench tightly around his throbbing cock. He thrusts one more time and digs his teeth into the soft flesh at Stiles’ neck. Stiles cums with another “Fuck!” and Derek feels the sticky wetness of cum on his chest, feel the almost painfully hard clench of muscles around his aching erection and he throws himself into the waiting orgasm, driving quick, sporadic strokes inside of Stiles tight heat, cumming deep inside of him.

Derek can’t breathe, can’t think or hear or smell or see for a second and when he comes to he is slumped on top of Stiles against the door. They are both trying to catch their breath, bodies a mess of intertwined limbs. Derek reaches up to push Stiles’ sweat-slicked hair from his face. He leans forward and kisses him. Stiles grins at him when he pulls away. It’s a while longer before either of them can move. Derek is still settled inside of Stiles, so he lifts him up and walks them both back over to the bed, setting Stiles on his back before he carefully pulls out.

Stiles winces slightly at the loss, but he sighs, a deep, heavy, sated sigh that Derek feels in his bones. He kneels on the edge of the bed and watches a trickle of cum slip out of Stiles’ ass. Derek grins, a wicked idea settling in his mind. Stiles grins back and closes his eyes, stifling a yawn. Derek reaches for the plug that is still sitting on the night stand. “I like this,” he says simply, and Stiles opens his eyes to look at him.

The corner of his mouth tilts and he lifts himself onto an elbow, “I kind of figured you would.” It takes a second for his sex-hazed brain to catch up to Derek’s idea, but Derek can tell when he understands by the lazy grin that splits across his face.

Derek leans over and drags the tip of the plug through the trail of cum at his ass until he pushes it back into Stiles now thoroughly ravished hole. Stiles shakes his head and pulls Derek down next to him on the bed. He  throws a leg over Derek’s thighs and wraps his arms around his chest. Stiles huffs a laugh against his throat.

“What?” Derek shrugs, his hands traveling down to spread Stiles’ ass so he can see the base of the black plug, “I like to look at it.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! Any and all comments and/or criticisms are accepted and appreciated! Seriously, this is only my 2nd fic and I would love feedback!


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